


Fuck Me Hard, Pretty Boy

by womenseemwicked



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: ((because aparently I can't even make enemies fuck without FEELINGS getting involved)), ((so essentially... perfect couple)), ((speaks to my experience I guess)), Alley Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And Ultimately..., Bottom Billy Hargrove, But Billy Has an Insult Kink?, Cigarettes, Cock Slut Billy Hargrove, Dirty Talk, Emotionally Repressed, Enemies With Benefits, Established Relationship, Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, I don't know why I can't write people having sex without talking, Insults, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Painplay, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Posessive Steve Harrington, Post-Season/Series 02, Realistic, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Steve May Have a Praise Kink, Switching, Teasing, Unromantic, Verbal Humiliation, Versatile Billy Hargrove, Versatile Steve Harrington, What Happens When Two Power Bottoms Fuck?, condom drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:09:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womenseemwicked/pseuds/womenseemwicked
Summary: I mostly love this ship for the character arc/foil opportunities, but those pieces take longer to write and damn if the sex isn't hot.





	Fuck Me Hard, Pretty Boy

The football field is empty this time of day, but Steve still looks over his shoulder before ducking underneath the bleachers.

"Harrington," a lazy voice drawls from within the dark. Steve smells the cigarette smoke and cologne coming off him before he sees him. "I wondered if you'd show."

Steve follows the sound of the voice into the recesses of Hawkins High's den of inequity, his shoes sticking slightly in old alcohol spills and god knows what as he steps deeper in, but he doesn't respond.

"Did you bring the stuff?" Billy asks, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his foot.

Steve turns out his pockets and holds up his loot for Billy to inspect in the dim, angled light from above: a strip of condoms, and a small but expensive bottle of lube. Billy's eyes go glittery and his smile wide the way they always do when sin is afoot.

"Mm, I knew you'd have expensive taste, Harrington." He takes the lube in his hand and inspects it. "This is the really good shit, isn't it?"

Steve shrugs as though he didn't spend 20 minutes in the store trying to make sure he got the very best, and runs a hand through his already wind-ruffled hair in a show of casualness.

"I guess so," he says, tossing his jacket over an inexplicable bit of fence someone saw fit to install down here.

"And enough condoms for a week." Billy's smile is wide as he pulls Steve in by the waist and kisses his neck, short and hard and biting. "I like the way you think, _sweetheart_." The endearment is thrown out like some kind of jab at his manhood, like most things Billy calls him, but Steve feels it in his chest anyway. He desperately pushes the feeling down. 

"So, we gonna do this?" he asks. "Or are we just gonna stand around talking until practice starts?"

"How much time we got?" Billy says, shedding his own jacket to hang it over the fence with Steve's. Underneath it his shirt is so open he might as well not be wearing one at all.

Steve glances down at his watch. "About half an hour," he says. Billy grins and readjusts the lock of hair in front of his eyes artfully. 

"Perfect," he purrs, and in a moment he's on his knees, a flat of cardboard somebody brought down here over spring break serving to keep his criminally tight jeans from getting too messed up as he kneels to make quick work of Steve's zipper.

Steve watches as Billy opens his pants and reaches in, not even bothering to slide anything down before he's got his lips wrapped tight around the head of Steve's still soft cock.

The older boy lets out a low sigh with something like relief. Having Billy Hargrove's mouth around him has quickly become his favorite way to get hard and not just because it's the mouth of an attractive asshole. This attractive asshole happens to also be an absolute champion cock sucker.

"Oh fuck," Steve breathes when Billy takes him deeper, and his hand knots tightly in the asshole's unnaturally curly hair as he bucks his hips. Billy pulls off him immediately and glares up from under those impossibly long, dark lashes.

"You trying to get bit, Harrington?" he intones, his just barely fucked-out voice only serving to make him sound more dangerous.

Steve pulls his hand away from Billy's hair quickly and holds his hands up in innocence. "Right, sorry."

"Touch the mane and I kill you," Billy reminds him, sitting back on his heels to fix the barely rumpled curls. "You know the goddamn rules."

Steve rolls his eyes and sniffs, searching his pockets for a cigarette just for something to do with his hands.

"Your fault it looks so damn inviting," he mutters under his breath as he searches, but Billy catches the comment and can't help but smile slightly.

He reaches over to where he was sitting while he waited, and slips Steve his own pack and lighter.

"Maybe someday you'll get lucky, Harrington," Billy suggests. "But you can bet your ass it won't be when I still have to fuckin' drive home. I am not going out there looking like somebody just took a steamroller to my hair. Got me?"

Steve smirks around the cigarette he's lighting and nods. "Yessir," he concedes. "Now can we get back to the good stuff? You talk too much when your mouth is empty."

Billy grins as Steve hands him back the lighter and the rest of the pack, then leans back in to nose at the dark curls around Steve's filling cock and breathes hot air out over it teasingly.

"Maybe I wouldn't talk so much if you weren't so fun to rile up," he taunts. And then in one smooth movement, Billy reaches up and holds him tight in place by the cheeks of his still clothed ass, and sucks the older boy's half-erect cock between his lips with an utterly sinful, slippery sound that makes Steve's blood pound all on its own.

Billy grunts around his cock as he slides him almost all the way out again and Steve is glad to at least have the cigarette to keep his hands and mouth distracted as he resists the urge to groan compliments to Billy's skill with his tongue and lips and throat, knowing better since the last time he tried. Billy doesn't respond well to nice words. Doesn't believe them enough to be turned on, only gets suspicious and distrustful. So instead, Steve takes a long drag off the cigarette and sighs as Billy sucks him deep, licking the length of him every chance he can get like he's hungry for it.

But it doesn't last for long. As soon as Billy deems him hard enough he finishes undoing the front of Steve's pants, pulling it all down to his knees, then he bites a kiss into his hip, sucks a mark into the tender skin near his tightening balls, and turns him around.

Steve puts his hands out reflexively and grabs the little fence, their jackets padding the fall, and angles his hips so that Billy has better access. 

Billy lets out a low groan and gives his ass an appreciative slap.

Steve jumps at the suddenness of it, but can't deny the rush of blood to his cock at the sensation. Inadvertently, he lets out a little moan.

"You like that, Harrington?" Billy drawls. He brushes the back of his hand over the slightly reddened skin and Steve can hear the grin in his voice. "No wonder you lost so spectacularly to me that first time. You wanted to, didn't you?" he asks. He slaps the other cheek, this time using the hand he wears a thick ring on.

Steve grunts with pain and doubles over, but doesn't tell him to stop. He does, however, correct the dangerous piece of shit.

"You think I was thinking about how hot getting hit by you would be when you were about to actually kill Sinclair?" he says, disgust and arousal making for a strange and heavy tone in his voice. "You sick fuck. I lost that fight 'cause you hit me with a fucking plate."

Billy steals the cigarette from Steve and presses his perfect lips to Steve's half-turned neck, giving him a sloppy wet kiss and sucking in the very faintest of marks, not seeming to mind the accusation.

"You should have known better, _princess_ ," he says easily, taking a drag and dropping the cigarette to the ground. "Of course I was gonna fight dirty."

With that he kneels down again and slips his tongue down the crack of Steve's ass, ghosting over his hole unceremoniously.

Steve groans and twitches up against him as all thoughts of argument fly from his mind. Who the hell cares who won that fight. Right now all he cares about is what Billy is doing with his tongue.

Billy smirks against his ass and spreads his cheeks further with his hands so he can lick deeper.

"Fuck, Hargrove," Steve grunts desperately as Billy spears his tongue in past the first ring of muscle, fucking it in and out slowly and deliciously. "Don't stop," he gasps.

A better man might take that literally. Might spend some time fucking Steve open just with tongue. But Billy has always been contrary.

Despite both of their enjoyment he pulls his tongue out, bites Steve's ass cheek perhaps a bit more firmly than he should, and stands up.

Steve narrowly represses a deprived little whimper.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he tries to sound stern, looking over his shoulder with a glare.

Billy smiles and opens up the bottle of lube, squirting some out onto his fingers.

"I thought you wanted me to fuck you, _Stevie_ ," he says sweetly, and he presses the cold liquid roughly against Steve's still tight hole but not quite in. Steve lurches away from the sudden sensation.

"Do you still want that?" Billy asks, taunting. "Or would you rather I just leave?"

Steve's quiet moan is unexpected and embarassingly needy, but he spins it with the threatening tone in his voice when he speaks. "Don't you dare, Hargrove."

Billy chuckles through a groan and leans in over him to press a perfunctory kiss to the edge of Steve's still half-turned jaw.

"Then plant your feet, and fucking relax," he advises low against his ear, his patronizing tone veiling actual good advice.

Steve does as he's told, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to try and will down the wild nerves he swore he no longer felt for this. God, he's wanted this so long it feels absurd to be afraid of it now, but here he is, shaking against Billy Hargrove's hand.

Billy slips a finger in.

It's slick, and warmer now, and though it stretches a bit it's more unusual than it is uncomfortable. Not at all how Steve imagined it would feel, although he realizes now he should have pictured it feeling like this. He adjusts his stance very slightly and nods that Billy can add more. He does.

Two fingers is definitely harder, more painful, but after a moment the slickness of the lube and the slow movements of Billy's fingers bring Steve back from the edge of pain and he's fucking himself back onto them just a bit as Billy moves. Billy chuckles, but it doesn't sound how his laughs usually seem - cold and cruel and manic. This time it sounds turned on and a little bit impressed.

"Told you you'd like it, _pretty boy_ ," he teases as he fucks his fingers in and out of Steve. "God, your ass was meant for this."

Steve grunts and takes the fingers in further.

"You gonna fuck me now?" he asks tightly. And though he's become mostly comfortable with the feeling of the fingers, his voice is shaky.

Billy laughs again, that soft, just barely teasing chuckle Steve can't get enough of, and grabs a handful of his ass.

"Not just yet, _baby._  I still gotta get that rubber on. You don't _wanna_ know where I've been before you," he brags as he slaps Steve's ass playfully. This time it hardly hurts at all.

Steve snorts.

"You're full of shit, Hargrove. Anyone could tell you're just as made to be fucked as I am. Maybe more. I doubt you've been on that end of things at all," he taunts.

Billy slaps him hard; a spike of anger taking their casual exploration of pain a sudden step further.

"That's not true," Hargrove says coldly, pressing the hard outline of his cock, still held tight by his jeans, against Steve's tender ass and holding him tight. He slaps him again, his ring dragging a stripe of pain across the side of Steve's naked thigh. "Don't you fuckin' say that about me," Billy continues, and voice shakes slightly with defensive, biting anger. "I will fucking leave you here. Open, begging, and alone like the  _slut_ you are."

Steve can't help but laugh quietly. He reaches up behind him and slips his fingers under Billy's hair, straight to the back of his neck and holds him there, standing up against him and pulling their mouths together over his left shoulder for a kiss. Billy's angry lips open to Steve's exploring tongue, and though the kiss is rough, it's deep and after a while Billy allows him to turn so they're pressed together closer, front to front.

"No you won't," Steve disagrees with quiet confidence, slipping his hand down the front of Billy's jeans and cupping his still stifled erection, kneading his balls through the denim. Billy fails to hold back a shameful moan. "You love this as much as I do, _pretty boy_."

He bites into Billy's neck and runs his lips up to his jaw, pushing his thickly hairsprayed hair out of the way with his nose. "You need me," he growls against Billy's ear, and it's only half a jab. The other half of him hopes to god it's true. But Billy isn't letting him have it that easy. He laughs off a groan with derision and pushes Steve away so he can undo his painfully tight zipper.

"I've been getting off without you just fine, Harrington," he says carelessly, struggling with the zip. "Maybe I'll go find another slut to fuck. Maybe I'll jerk off in the locker room before I go," he threatens as Steve kneels down before him to help the asshole out of his jeans. When his cock springs free of its confines, rising quickly to stand almost straight up against his flat stomach, they both groan low and needy. Steve still isn't used to the knowledge that Billy wears jeans too tight for underwear, and he isn't sure he'll ever be.

Steve licks his lips, but Billy grabs him by the hair at the back of his head and turns his face up to look at him. "You're nothing to me, Harrington," he tells him intently. "Just a pretty fuckin' face."

And Steve doesn't like that. Doesn't like that at all. Not that he has any illusions that he and Billy are exclusive. They aren't even Out, for god's sake. But Steve has always been a romantic at heart, as well as a servant to the truth (when he can be). And hearing Billy talk like that, especially when he knows the sounds Billy makes for him when they're both about to come, makes Steve want to hit something. Luckily, he can do that with a boy. Particularly with _this_ boy.

He grabs Billy by the hips and turns him roughly against the outer brick wall of the gym, knocking the wind out of him just a little. He glares up into Billy's hard gaze, still so bright even in the dimness below the bleachers, and licks up the underside of his fully erect cock as if to prove a point - _you're hard just from sucking me off, asshole_. Billy twitches against his tongue, but Steve doesn't give him the satisfaction of the rest of his mouth. Instead, he stands up to his full height in front of him and drags his own cock up against Billy's.

Hargrove gasps and his head goes back, eyes closed. Steve smiles nastily, his arms trapping the younger boy against the wall as he ruts slowly into him.

"Bullshit," he growls, their lips inches apart. "Bullshit this means nothing to you. You can tell the rest of the world that, Billy, but don't you dare tell me you aren't as desperate for this as I am." He dives in for a rough, punishing kiss, and ends it before Billy has time to respond. "Don't you fucking dare tell me that."

Billy's face is caught between fear, resentment, and arousal. He stares at Steve's lips single-mindedly.

"Fuck me," he says, low in his throat, and it's not a request. It's not begging. It's a stoic command.

Steve's knees nearly buckle but he doesn't let it show. Instead, he tugs Billy's criminally tight pants just a bit further down, gives up, and steps away to grab the lube Billy tossed away earlier.

"Take those fucking things off," he tells him as he pours out some of the liquid and slicks it up and down his own erection.

This isn't how he'd planned this day to go. He really did want to try taking Hargrove's frankly gorgeous cock up his ass. But the call of this is too strong to ignore. And there will be other days to be fucked by Billy. Days when they're less tense and liable to snap. Days when he'll be gentle enough that Steve won't be terrified the whole time that something's going to rip. Steve nearly laughs at the thought. _Maybe._

Billy's jeans are pooled around his ankles, caught around his thick leather boots, and with his shirt hanging open and his desperate cock standing up from a nest of curls nearly as dark as Steve's, he looks absolutely fucking edible. Steve can't help but run his fingers slowly down the younger boy's toned, sun-kissed chest as he presses him back up firmly against the wall.

"How do you want it, Hargrove?" he asks, teasing. He slides two slick fingers in between Billy's legs to presses them against his hole.

"Like this? Up against the wall, watching me disappear into you with every stroke?" He presses his lips up against the younger boy's ear and lets his voice go dangerously low the way he knows Billy likes it. "Or would you rather I turn you around and fuck you like the slut you are? Ruin that hair of yours by pulling on it so I can bite your pretty neck?"

Billy grunts out a moan and jerks against him as Steve presses his fingers inside. His hand clenches hard and sudden on Steve's shoulder, making him move in even closer. He was right before. Billy is more used to this sensation than he'd ever say, and is already loose enough that he takes the two fingers with about as much trouble as Steve took Billy's tongue.

"Touch my hair and you die, _sweetheart_ ," Billy threatens by way of politely worded request.

Steve laughs against his hot skin and presses his fingers in further, scissoring them apart so Billy gasps with the stretch.

"It's a good day to die," he says, and in a moment he's pulled his fingers out and flipped the younger boy, pulling his hips out from the wall so he doesn't risk road rash all down that pretty chest of his. "Plant your feet, Hargrove," he mocks, and Billy does.

Steve has done this before. Not a lot, mind you - in a small town like Hawkins there's limited selection to choose from even for the king of the kegstand - but he knows what he's doing when he presses the head of his cock to Billy's slick, puckered entrance, and doesn't hesitate more than a second before pushing relentlessly inside.

Billy grunts and doubles over slightly, his fingers grasping for purchase on the rough brick wall, but he pushes his ass back into Steve eagerly and angles his hips for more.

"Fuck, Billy," Steve groans, clutching at his hips tight as he buries himself to the hilt. "You look so good like this."

Billy glares over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. No compliments, no gay shit. I got ya," Steve rolls his eyes.

"Move," Billy commands. " _Faggot_."

Steve raises his eyebrows in disbelief, but when Billy intentionally clenches his muscles around him Steve's hips reflexively stutter into motion.

"Je-sus," he grunts dizzily. "Okay, you asked for it."

He snaps his hips forward with purpose and pushes Billy further down the wall with a hand between his shoulder blades, and Billy's breath hitches as he pounds forward into him again. Before long he's established the punishing rhythm they've both so desperately craved, and Billy is practically dancing up against him in search of his cock.

Girls never do this for Steve and after a while, he wonders what Billy's doing, but then Billy seems to find the spot he's looking for and lets out a loud, uncontrollable groan, clenching tight around the whole of Steve's cock, and the rhythm stutters.

"Ho-oly fuck," Steve groans, and he has to stop for a moment to collect himself. "What the hell was that?"

Billy laughs and though he's trying to sound derisive it comes out entirely turned on.

"Prostate," he gasps, fucking himself back into Steve's tight hips pointedly. "That. Is what you gotta aim for."

Steve nods wordlessly, biting his lip, and slowly pulls himself out almost to the tip. "Okay," he says, his voice just a little higher than usual, and lines himself up as well as he can to hit what he thinks is the spot he just hit, holding Billy's hips tight to keep him still.

Billy growls at the resistance, and Steve shoves himself back into that tight heat, hard. A desperate cry is ripped from Billy's lips and Steve feels the sudden need to _feel_ those noises as they come from the younger boy's perfect lips. Still seated deep within him he pulls Billy's head back by his deliciously tangible hair and kisses him hard.

He fucks back into him a few times before he finds that spot again, but once he does he doesn't let it go. Fucking hard into the tight but welcoming heat of Billy's perfect ass while he bites and sucks and moans against his perfect, fucked-thick lips. And all the while Billy's hair is tangled up in his fingers, so incredibly made for grasping onto, and he's panting so wantonly into Steve's mouth, clutching around his dick with every swipe past his prostate, it's too much.

"Touch yourself," Steve orders when he's close, and Billy's hand immediately goes to his straining cock like he was waiting to be told. And if that isn't the hottest thing ever. "Fuck, Billy," he grunts, snapping his hips up again, driving straight into that bundle of nerves. "I can't..."

Billy groans and leaves his lips to lean back down against the wall, giving Steve a better angle to fuck him hard and fast. He never talks this far into things, not when he knows that anything he says will be too fucking queer and needy to refute later, but his actions say enough. Steve picks up his pace to desperation levels and it isn't long before both of them are letting out tandem shouts of pleasure and spilling hot and sticky into Billy's tightening ass and the cold brick of the wall in front of them.

 

"Holy shit, Harrington," Billy slurs after a while, still breathing heavy with his head just above his arms against the wall. He spits and pulls himself back up slowly. "I haven't been fucked like that in ages."

Steve laughs a little breathlessly.

"Me neither," he says ironically, moving a little in Billy's ass and feeling the deliciously overstimulating feeling of his own come against his softening cock.

"What, whats-her-name wasn't a loud, aggressive fuck? Color me surprised," Billy mocks, grunting a little at the feeling of Steve's movements in his still tender ass.

Steve pulls out of him, a trail of come following with him and slipping quickly down Billy's thigh, and he lets out a little, horrified breath.

At first, Billy thinks it's from the mention of Nancy, but when he glances back at him he realizes quickly that it's not that.

"What?" he asks, keeping his voice unconcerned and a bit cavalier.

Steve glances up at him, terrified as he can be through the haze of post-orgasm bliss, and shakes his head.

"I forgot the condom," he mutters.

Billy watches him for a moment before he gives in to an over-loud laugh and turns around to lean his back against the wall. Steve frowns at him through lowered lashes, confused, hurt, and quickly jumping to the conclusion that as per usual Billy is simply enjoying someone else's misfortune. But Billy rolls his eyes and looks away with an apologetic tone he'd never take if something were just a joke to him.

"I'm clean," he finally confesses. He looks up to Steve's still worried eyes to let him see the truth in his stark blue gaze and smiles almost ashamedly. "My dad had me checked before we came out here. When Max caught me with a guy in Long Beach he thought that I'd..." he rolls his eyes and shrugs. "But you're safe, Harrington. I don't have anything up my ass except what you just put there."

Steve lets out a slightly hysterical laugh of his own and pulls Billy into a grateful, celebratory kiss.

"You sure?" he asks as they pull apart, still worried. "I just-- if I catch something my dad will kill me."

Billy kisses his way to Steve's ear and sucks it.

"Promise, _pretty boy_ ," he says, low and alluring but still somehow childishly smug. "I'm all yours."

Steve groans at the sound of those words before he can tell himself not to, and only manages to half disguise it as a laugh. But Billy's smirk at that is merely entertained.

"Come on, let's get cleaned the fuck up before your bullshit football team catches us out here. I'm beginning to not _completely_ hate Hawkins, and it'd be a shame to have to leave so soon."

 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave me comments! fight me on this ship, fight me for this ship, just fight me, or better yet, tell me what you thought of the fic? I really want to write more of these characters so it'd be nice to know there's more sickos like me out there eager to read it.


End file.
